Zabini, NOT Zambini
by Phoenix-Flower92
Summary: Blaise Zabini is frustrated with how a certain nameless professor often misspells his last name by adding a nonexistant 'm'. Implied slash of the blaisesnape kind


**A/N: This is SO weird; I have no idea where it came from. I didn't intend on the pairing, honestly. I meant for this to be innocent and humorous, but let's just say this. My pen insisted otherwise!!!**

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**Warning: Implied slash!!!!!!!( very mild, but still, it's implied, so if you don't like, don't read, and by all means, refrain from FLAMING for it!!) Thanks.**

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_Blaise Zambini._

The dark-haired, olive-skinned teen glowered, biting his lip sourly with a sudden desire to draw blood. He felt rather irked this time. Not only by the spelling but the fact that he knew the professor knew that it would irk him this time. It hadn't been so bad on the first incident; he hadn't thought anything of it back then. But now? Now it was just ridiculous, pathetic, and utterly immature.

_Blaise Zambini_. It starred back at him in the old book, the inside cover that held the names of each owner, previous students from previous years, all leading up to him. All spelled correctly. All of them, that is, but his own.

The extra letter, an 'm' to be specific, mocked him endlessly as it looked up at him, amused at how bothered he was by the seemingly tiny mistake.

But that was the thing. It _wasn't_ tiny. It was his name!! Did he not reserve the right to want it spelled correctly?? Did he not have every right to feel this way?? He swore under his breath. He hated that professor…

Roughly, he rubbed his hand over the name, attempting to smear it and failing. The ink refused to smudge in any way. He considered simply fixing the flaw himself with one easy wand wave…but then…no. He decided against it. He wanted the professor to do it. He wanted an apology. He wanted this straightened out immediately.

Standing abruptly from his current position on the Slytherin common room fireplace armchair, Blaise marched right to the classroom owned by the professor he so loathed with every fiber of his being.

He pushed the heavy wooden door open once he arrived and allowed it to slam violently behind him. The professor merely glanced up, briefly, and returned apathetically to grading excruciatingly long rolls of parchment.

Blaise moodily made his way up to the desk and slammed the book down, smack dab in the middle of the assignment that the man currently had been reading, just to make a point.

"Every year," Blaise spoke tersely through his outrage, "Every. Bloody. Year. You grade my papers, you know good and well that there is no 'm' in my name!"

"That all you came down here for?" he smirked, looking up as there was no need to pretend to grade a paper that the book was clearly in the middle of.

"I'M FED UP!! I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!!! Can't stand….ohhh…" he took a moment to breath deeply and calm down.

"Can't stand…what?"

The teenager ignored him. "Fix it," it was absolutely a threat, and the tone of his voice suggested 'or else'.

"I can't." The man replied simply, "To me, it's spelled with an 'm'. And as your teacher, I am correct. Unless…"

Blaise had to bite his tongue again, this time to control his choice of words.

"I have no desire to do well in this class any longer." He finally stated icily.

"Ahh…but you don't mean that," the man drawled.

"Yes, I do,"

"You're just mad. And when you cool down, you'll come to your senses and realize, like you always do, that grades are far more important that the misspelling of your name,"

"Not this time," Blaise growled.

"You said that in your third year, I do recall," the professor replied in a bored way, "Now please, do remove your book from my desk before I am forced to, dare I say it, deduct house points?"

"It is not mine," Blaise stood still, arms obstinately crossed.

"Then why, may I question, does it say your name?"

"That's just it! It doesn't say _my _name! It spells Z-A-M-B-I-N-I, and that is not how I spell it. I spell it Z-A-B-I-N-I!!!!"

"But I must disagree,"

Blaise fought against performing any action that he'd later regret. He wanted to shout and stomp around the room in anger. He wanted to pull his hair out or blast the professor across from him into a demon dimension that would torture him to no end until the man begged Blaise to forgive him.

Instead, shaking uncontrollably, and lip quivering, he asked, ever so gently like always, "Why?"

And it was rhetorical, because the man needn't not to answer. Both knew the answer already, as the question had been asked several times before. The conversation came to this point every time. Why? Why as in why did he have to misspell Zabini all the time? Why did he do it if it aggravated the boy to no end? Why did he enjoy watching him fume? Why must he tease Blaise in such a way?

Blaise knew why, and he wouldn't go there. He wouldn't sink so low over one mistake in his name. He wouldn't sink so low over anything that the professor did. Because the man would only cease in misspelling Zabini if Blaise obeyed his one and only request. One request, but the attractive teen refused every single time.

"You're greasy-haired. You're a slime-ball, and you're an idiot. You are sick and perverted," Blaise Zabini's voice was low and laced in snake venom, "And I will always hate you, Professor. I will always hate you, _Snape!!"_

He turned around and, kicking the first row of desks, saw to his way out. He left not only his _Blaise Zambini_ book, but a broken-hearted professor as well.

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**A/N: Review? Please, pretty please with sugar and drizzled chocolate and a cherry on top? I'll be foreverly grateful, really, I will be. I live on reviews. And if you do review, you'll receive a virtual cookie, cupcake, or treat of your choosing:)**

**And it's okay if you hate it. I won't cry...okay, maybe just a little...but I'll get over it. Eventually. Heh, heh...just don't flame for the pairing is all I ask, because I warned everybody that it implied slash.**


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